


The Four Heads are Better than Two Affair

by nothingeverlost



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E., The Avengers (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is becoming a very bad habit," Emma thought to herself when she awoke to find herself bound to a chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Heads are Better than Two Affair

**Author's Note:**

> A Man From U.N.C.L.E and Avengers crossover
> 
> originally posted 6/2007

Emma had just settled down in her armchair with a book when she opened it up to find the bookmark was gone, replaced by a white index card bearing the words “Mrs. Peel, we’re needed” in elegant script. 

“Do you have plans for the afternoon, Mrs. Peel?” Steed, wearing his usual bowler hat. poked his head through the open window. 

“What is it now, a body in the rose garden or robots on Baker Street?” Emma asked, setting down the book and watching with amusement as Steed stepped through the window, closing it behind himself with the tip of his umbrella. 

“None of the above. This time it’s a scientist by the name of Carter who has created a drug to instantly induce amnesia. Rumor is he intends to poison the water supply.” 

“Diabolical.” Emma eyed the cup of tea she had been about to drink. 

“Very,” Steed agreed. 

II 

“I assume the amnesia is only step one in Thrush’s plan,” Napoleon mused as he relaxed in the passenger seat of their rented car. Illya never needed him to navigate when they were in England. 

“I’m sure it’s more of the usual; chaos, mayhem, world domination. Can you imagine if suddenly the Prime Minister didn’t know he was prime minister? Same with the police, the armed forces, the common person.” 

“And then Thrush steps in to provide leadership and restore order. Their kind of order, of course.” Napoleon shuddered at the idea. 

“Of course.” 

II 

“The laboratory is down that corridor. I’ll go see what I can find,” Emma said as she read the directory. It was so nice when villains left such obvious signs. 

“While you do that I shall check the offices. Carter might have kept some of his research in there,” Steed agreed. They smiled at each other then took off in opposite directions. 

Emma was surprised to find that the door to the lab wasn’t locked, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She wasn’t much good at picking locks. Deciding to eschew any unnecessary light she took a penlight out of her pocket and turned it on before entering the room. She had barely closed the door behind her when a strike to the back of her neck had her falling to the floor. 

II 

“The labs are that way, Illya. Sounds like your territory.” Napoleon read the directory and gestured down the hallway. 

“And while I am searching the labs what will you be doing?” Illya lifted an eyebrow in question. 

“I though I’d find the receptionist. They’re always a font of information,” Napoleon said with a smile. Illya rolled his eyes. 

“And you are so adept at extracting it from them.” Illya shrugged and turned to head down the hallway. Napoleon rubbed his hands together and plastered on his most charming smile before entering the reception area. 

Illya found the lab without incident, and when he inched the door open found that the room was dark. Good; it would be easier to search if he didn’t have to deal with any people who would have to be restrained before he could work. He stepped into the room, but when he turned to find the light-switch there was a noise behind him. He put up a fight, but finally a fist found the corner of his jaw and he was down for the count. 

II

This is becoming a very bad habit, Emma thought to herself when she awoke to find herself bound to a chair. Rope this time, which was easier to deal with than chains but chaffed more. If they had asked she would have expressed a preference for handcuffs; she was getting quite good at picking them. 

II

Not again, Illya sighed when he came to. His head was throbbing, his hands were bound tightly behind him, and the room he was in was obviously not a laboratory, which meant it would take Napoleon that much longer to find him. Also, his nose itched. 

II

“Is someone there?” Emma heard what sounded like a sigh, but her chair was facing the corner of the room and even when she turned her head she couldn’t see anyone. Who ever it was must be directly behind her. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” The voice was low and cultured, British with a trace of something eastern underneath. Not Dr. Carter, then, who was from Spain. 

“I don’t suppose you would like to untie me, would you? The rope around my ankles is a bit tight and my foot has fallen asleep.” 

“I’m sorry to disappoint but I am rather incapacitated myself.” 

“I beg pardon?” Emma threw her weight to one side, the chair tipping dangerously before righting itself. The move gained her a slightly better view, and she could now see in the opposite corner of the room the back of a man seated in a chair. Like her he was tied up, though he seemed to have a few more ropes and knots. “Oh dear.” 

“I presume you, like myself, are a prisoner of Thrush?” His tone was conversational, as if talking of being a prisoner was completely normal. Emma almost laughed, because in her world it was. 

“Thrush?” she asked. “I don’t know who he is. I’m here because I was trying to stop Dr. Carter from poisoning England’s water.” 

“Carter is simply a cog. Thrush is the machine. They are the ones funding Carter, presumably, and the ones who mean to profit from his work. Yet another attempt to take over the world,” he said with disgust. 

“You mean there is an organized group of megalomaniacs? There’s a cheery thought.” Her neck starting to get sore from looking over her shoulder, Emma turned away from the blond haired man. “I’m Emma, by the way. If we are prisoners together it seems we should at least introduce ourselves.” 

“Illya Kuryakin.” His accent thickened slightly. 

“Russian?” The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. 

“When it suits me,” Illya answered sardonically. 

“And the rest of the time?” 

“I am a citizen of the world. I work for the U.N.C.L.E.” 

“An UNCLE agent, now that is handy. Between the two of us we should be able to work something out.” Kicking her feet against the wall she scooted her chair towards the center of the room a few more inches. Only another ten feet to go. Easy. 

“You never did say who you work for, Emma.” There was a scraping sound, and Emma knew that Illya’s chair was moving across the floor towards her. 

“Steed,” she answered simply. 

“Steed? I am unfamiliar with...” 

“My partner,” Emma cut in. It was an awkward subject, the question of who she worked for. The MOD, Mother, Steed, no one. She preferred not to think of it. 

“Ah yes, partner,” Illya said as if the single word was enough of an explanation. He did not ask any more questions, and for the next ten minutes they concentrated on working their way to the center of the room. 

“Now that’s progress,” Emma commented with a smile when Illya’s hands brushed against the small of her back. Illya also allowed himself a smile of relief, and started working on the closest knot. 

II 

“Stop right there.” Napoleon was frowning over the signs of a skirmish in the lab and the obvious absence of his partner when the door opened. He held his gun steady as a smartly dressed man emerged through the doorway. Seeing the gun the man smiled solicitously and raised his hands in the air. 

“Terribly sorry to intrude. I was looking for a friend of mine, but since she isn’t here I’ll just be going.” 

“I don’t think so.” Napoleon cocked back the hammer on his special. “This friend wouldn’t happen to be a little Thrushie, would he?” 

“A what? No, my good fellow. My friend’s neither a bird nor a man. She goes by the name of Mrs. Peel.” 

“And what do you go by?” 

“Steed. John Steed, to be more precise. Could I trouble you for an introduction?” 

“Napoleon Solo.” He relaxed slightly but still kept his gun aimed on the stranger. The man didn’t seem like a Thrush agent, but anything was possible. 

“Not the Napoleon Solo, CEA of U.N.C.L.E. North America, surely?” Steed’s grin widened and he lowered his hands. “What a marvelous coincidence.” 

“Really? And why is that?” 

“I assume you are here to stop Carter, which is what I am trying to do. Am I right?” Steed seemed genuinely delighted. 

“You’re not from UNCLE London,” Napoleon mussed. “I would have recognized your name.” 

“Of course, old chap. I am in the same game as you, though, even the same side usually. British MOD.” 

“Now that could be a handy coincidence.” A grin spreading across his own face Napoleon returned his gun to his shoulder holster. “Your friend...” 

“Mrs. Peel,” Steed supplied. 

“Mrs. Peel was supposed to meet you here in the lab?” 

“That was the general idea.” With a slight frown Steed looked around the room. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if she was with my partner? One rescue operation would be so much easier than two.” 

II

“I think I’ve finally figured out where I heard your name before.” Emma, her hand free, starting working on Illya’s ropes. 

“You’ve heard of me?” Illya asked, sounding puzzled. “Napoleon is usually the one people remember.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Emma muttered as she looked up briefly from the rope and meet the sparkling blue gaze. Her fellow prisoner was as attractive in his own way as Steed was in his; darkness and light, it would be interesting to see them alongside each other. “As I was saying, though, it’s just the name I recognized, and now I remember why. You published an article last month in Journal of Electroanalytical Chemistry on generating air blast waves using spatially extended explosive charges.” 

“You read that?” 

“As fun as it is I can’t spend all my time being held hostage. I have to have something to do in my off hours. I was intrigued by your article, particularly...” The door to the room flew open, fortunately at the same time the last of the knots came unraveled. When three Thrush goons came to escort their prisoners out of the room Emma and Illya were ready for them. 

Goon number one was taken out by Illya’s karate chop to the back of his neck. Goon number two crumpled under the blow of a wooden chair over his head. It was hard to tell what took out goon number thee- Illya hitting him in the stomach with his own rifle or Emma’s well aimed kick to the back of the knee. 

“At least they could try to put up a fight,” Illya eyed the fallen bodies, sounding almost disappointed. 

“They just don’t make gun toting thugs like they used to.” With a laugh Emma leaned over and placed a quick peck on Illya’s lips. It was something she often did to Steed and she didn’t think twice about it. “Now about that article of yours...” 

II

“Does it bother you?” Standing in the doorway of the room Napoleon turned to the man next to him.” 

“What?” 

“My partner, your partner...” 

“Seeing them kiss? Not at all,” Steed lied. “Does it bother you?” 

“Not at all,” Napoleon said with an equal amount of honesty. “Illya’s a big boy, he can kiss whomever he wants.” Napoleon glanced over his shoulder where he and Steed had left their own trail of bodies. “After all the work we did to rescue them, though, they could at least need rescuing.” 

“No worries, my friend. This just means we can get to the celebratory bottle of champagne that much sooner.” Using the tip of his umbrella to move the foot of a Thrush goon out of his way Steed entered the room to claim his partner, Napoleon right behind him.


End file.
